


Half A Teaspoon Of Sugar

by avienexjel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Artist Steve Rogers, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Steve is an asshole at first, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4199676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers doesn't think very highly of Tony Stark, and the feeling is mutual between the two.  Tony hates Steve because he's always so "perfect" and how he never breaks the rules.  In other words, he thinks that Steve Rogers is rigid, boring, and can't even take a joke.  However, his disgust and hatred for Captain America may have deeper roots than just that.  On the other hand, Steve finds Tony annoying--rich, cocky, and incredibly narcissistic while being a genius--and he might even be a little bit jealous, too.  </p><p>Basically, the two hate each other.  Too bad Nick Fury's ordered all the Avengers to come live in Stark Tower whether Tony or anybody else likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half A Teaspoon Of Sugar

CHAPTER 1. 

**Steve** **( I )**

All in all, Steve was having a very bad day.  Firstly, Tony had been annoying him again.  Even in the morning, the guy just couldn't give him a break.  Tony had walked in during breakfast, and  _of course_ looking cute even with the bedhead--wait, no, not  _cute;_ where had he gotten that from?--and had immediately started making fun of Steve.   _"You have sauce on your chin, Cap."  "Jeez, Capsicle, you don't have to throw a tantrum just because I have a phone at the table.  I'm a busy man.  I actually work, you know."_ Okay, so, the sauce on his chin thing might not have been an insult, but it still dug at Steve anyway.  And people  _shouldn't_ have phones at the table!  It was unethical, Steve reasoned.  

Secondly...all those nicknames were really grinding down on his nerves.   _Spangles, Capsicle, Grandpa..._ or, occasionally,  _90-Year-Old Virgin..._ what kind of godawful nickname was 90-Year-Old Virgin?  But the worse thing of all was today; the actual date.  August fifteenth.  One of his greatest friend's birthdays.  And that great friend was dead.  Howard Stark.  Tony's father had been such a wonderful man, and now he was gone, leaving behind a son that was nothing like Howard.  Every time Steve saw Tony, he couldn't help but compare him to his father.  How could someone turn out so selfish and conceited with a father so selfless and kind?  And here Steve had heard the phrase all the time  _"the apple doesn't fall far from the tree"._ Definitely not true.

"Hey, Cap," said a silky voice behind him.  "Are you just sitting here alone?"  Steve sighed inwardly and prepared himself for yet another dig.

"What exactly  _do_ you do all day?" Tony said, raising his eyebrows.  "Just sit on the couch staring at the wall?  Because that's what it looks like."

Steve narrowed his eyes, looking up at Tony.  "I'm  _thinking,_ Stark.  Something you ought to try."

Tony chuckled.  "The Captain's got sass, I see.  Well, Spangles, I'm going to join you for a couple minutes.  You see, doing nothing is very entertaining."  Tony laughed again and took a loud crunch from the rosy red apple in his hand.  Steve steeled himself, because for some doggone reason his eyes kept straying to Tony's lips, full and red and glistening with juice that probably tasted very sweet...when had he ever started noticing this kind of stuff?  And he liked women, not men, people like Peggy Carter.  Right?

"Today's Howard's birthday, you know," Steve blurted out, a little desperate to distract himself.  "You seem pretty happy." 

Steve saw something unrecognizable flash in Tony's eyes for a second before disappearing completely.  The billionaire shrugged nonchalantly.  "I remembered.  It's hard to forget." 

"Well..."  Steve suddenly had the overwhelming urge to talk to someone about Howard.  Everyone who ever knew him like Steve did was gone.  But Tony was here now.  No matter how much he disapproved of the billionaire, they both shared something in common--Howard.  Maybe they'd both bond this way.  After all, Tony  _had_ to have respected his dad, right?  If Steve had been Howard's son, he knew he would have worshipped him.  "I, um, can we talk about him?"

"Why?"  Tony's voice was suddenly hard.  "What for?"

"It's just..."  Steve couldn't believe he was sharing such personal stuff with Stark.  "I miss him a lot.  And I thought...since you knew him too...we could--"

"Reminisce about him?"  Tony let out a short laugh.  "No way, Capsicle, that's not happening."

Steve stopped.  Why did Tony have to be so...dismissive about it?  "Don't you miss him at all?"

That shut Tony up effectively.  The billionaire gave Steve a long look full of expressions that Steve couldn't distinguish.  "I have work to do, Spangles.  See you whenever."  Tony turned and got out of the room as quickly as possible.  

Of course.  Typical.  Tony never let anyone in at all, so why had Steve even thought that Tony might open up for him?  He leaned back down against the pillows and relaxed his muscles, which were still all tensed up from his and Stark's conversation.  He wished briefly that Howard would be here instead of Tony,  so that he could chat with his friend like in the old days.  

 

**Tony** **( II ) THREE HOURS LATER**

Even three hours later, the conversation he'd had with Steve was still replaying over and over in his head.  

Tony was...Tony had mixed feelings.  He didn't miss Howard, but he kind of wanted to.  Sure, Howard was a dick, but he was still Tony's father.  A father that, admittedly, he hated.  Too many times had he been ignored until Maria, drunk and stoned, would get pissed at Tony for even looking the wrong way.  Then Howard would come over, hearing the commotion, and give Tony a good couple of hard whacks that left his ears ringing and his vision blurry.  He'd even tried to run away a couple times as a kid, but Howard always found him in the end.  His face  _was_ famous, after all, being son of the "greatest person alive" (at the time, besides Captain America, of course).  The son of the asshole who never paid attention to Tony unless his son had done something he deemed "wrong".  Spilling Howard's coffee by accident when Tony burned his fingers on the cup and had to drop it (Howard always made Tony bring him coffee during breakfast time) had resulted in a backhand to the face, lots of screaming and yanking, and the smashing of a plate.  

Let's just say that Tony didn't have the same fond memories that Steve did of Howard Stark.

"Sir, Dr. Banner is requesting entry to the workshop," JARVIS said, startling Tony out of his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, of course.  Let him in," Tony said, waving a hand.  "Also, tell him that he can come in any time, but only him." 

"Of course, Sir," JARVIS replied. 

"Hi, Tony," Bruce said from the doorway.

"Hey, Big Guy," Tony said, not bothering to look up.  "What's up?" 

"Clint sent me down here to tell you that the Avengers are having a movie night."  Bruce shrugged awkwardly.  "Steve says you have to be there." 

"Steve can go shove a--"

 _"Tony."_ Bruce gave him an exasperated but fond look.  "You never come.  Just this once?  Besides, they always manage to make  _me_ come."

Tony groaned.  "Okay,  _fine,_ but only for you, Brucie."  He took off his welding goggles and gloves.  "Turn the lights off, will you?"  Tony waved vaguely around the area where Bruce stood.  

Bruce nodded, having familiarized himself with Tony's workshop over the past few months and flicked the room into darkness.  "Okay, let's go then, shall we?" Tony said, motioning for Bruce to step out first.  "I'm following you, Brucie."

 

_-_

 

**The Avengers** **( III )**

"Friend Tony, we are glad that you could come," Thor boomed as soon as Tony stepped out of the elevator with Bruce.  "I feared that you would not be able to join us this fine evening."

Tony rolled his eyes.  "Brucie here dragged me along."

"I did not," Bruce protested lamely.  "I think that deep inside, you wanted to come," the scientist added dryly, giving a tiny grin.

"Fine then, you guilted me into it," Tony shot back.  

"I know not of what you say, but we shall be watching what you Midgardians call a 'movie'," Thor announced.

"What  _are_ we watching?"  Steve poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Pitch Perfect 2," Clint said loudly, his words garbled by the food in his mouth as he entered the living room, carrying a plate of food piled high with various pastas and vegetables.  "Steef a ree e gooh cooh." 

"Steve's a really good cook," Natasha supplied helpfully.  "By the way, Clint's the one who chose the movie, not me."

 _"So?"_ Clint said indignantly, noodles and strings of melted parmesan cheese hanging from his mouth.  "Uh firf moo ee wa ree e gooh."

"The first movie was really good," Natasha repeated.  Then she glanced sidelong at Tony.  "Remember, his words, not mine."

 _"HEY!"_ That needed no translation.

Natasha shook her head but Tony caught a smile flash for a second across her face at Clint's antics.  The archer was currently trying to shove a huge hunk of sauced up warm chicken in his mouth, along with three large broccoli.  "Clint, that's disgusting."

Clint grinned, green bits stuck in between his teeth.  He swallowed, licking his lips exaggeratedly.  "MMM," he said, making a slurping noise in Natasha's ear.  "So delicious, Tasha."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Quiet, my Midgardian friends!" Thor yelled theatrically as he fumbled for the light switches.  Finally, he managed to flick the switches up the right way and the lights blinked off, bathing the room in darkness.  Meanwhile, Steve slipped out of the kitchen and into the living room, a little dismayed to find the only empty spot on the couch next to Tony, whose chocolaty brown eyes didn't stray from the screen even once as Steve made his way over.  As the blonde sat down, he felt Tony tense a little and shifted away, awkward.

"You won't be disappointed," Clint announced, grinning.  "Everyone loves Anna Kendrick anyways."

Natasha shushed Clint, elbowing him, and Clint could only grin wider as he elbowed her back.  

 

_-_ 

 

As the rolling credits played, Tony thought about the movie.  Some parts had been incredibly boring or a little foolish, but he had really enjoyed the acapella groups.  Although he would never admit it, he really loved music.  As a teenager, he'd learned how to play piano, although he'd stopped playing sometime in his thirties.  He was probably extremely rusty now, but he could still remember which note represented which key on a musical staff.  

His fingers unconsciously played out the left hand of Mozart's  _Requiem_ on his jean-clad thigh, dancing over the fabric with the ease and skill of a great pianist.  Muscle memory, probably, Tony thought as he realized what he was doing.  He stilled his fingers although he was itching to continue.

Tony put his hands behind his head, slumping down against the pillows.  "That sucked," he announced loudly.   _Better to pretend you hated it than for people to know that you thought it was okay._

"It was  _great,_ Stark, what're you talking about," Clint slurred, his voice thick from sleep. 

Natasha looked down at Clint's head in her lap.  "You were asleep for about half of it,  _moy severnyy svet,"_ she said, her lips twisting into an amused smile.   _My northern light._

"No I wasn't!" Clint protested, but his efforts were futile.  Trying again, the archer grinned up at Natasha and said:  _"Moy padayushchaya zvezda."_

"Good job," Natasha said.  "You don't have as bad a memory as I thought."  

"My shooting star," Clint teased.  "Of course, Tasha.  I'm fluent in Russian."

"Oh, really," Natasha said, raising an eyebrow.   _"Vy derzhite mesto y moyem serdtse, durak._ Translate then,  _moy svet."_

"Um...I no speak Russian?" Clint said.  

"I called you a fool," Natasha said dryly, "as well as said other things.  But I won't translate, since you're fluent."

Clint groaned.  "You cruel,  _cruel_ woman."

 _You hold a place in my heart, you fool._ Natasha laughed lightly.   _My light._

"My only language is English," Clint groused.  "Well, and I know how to say hello in Spanish."

"How do you?" Natasha teased.

 _"Hola,"_  Clint said proudly.  "See?"

"It's O-lah, not Ho-la," the female assassin corrected, smirking.  "You have a bad accent."

"What other languages can you speak besides Russian and English?" Steve asked incredulously.  "I didn't even  _know_ 'hello' in Spanish until now!  I'm  _worse_ than Clint."

"I'm fluent in German, French, Spanish, Latin, and Italian," Natasha replied, "and I know a touch of Japanese."

 _"Wow,"_  Steve said, eyebrows shooting up.  

"Four languages," Bruce interjected.  "English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Indonesian.  I traveled a lot."  Steve sighed.  Was he really the only one who didn't know more than one language,  besides Clint?  And Thor didn't count.

"Tony, what about you?" Steve asked.  "How many languages can you speak?"

Tony smirked.  "Natasha," he said smoothly,  _"Beh, io sono fluente in italiano, per uno."  Well, I am fluent in Italian, for one._ _  
_

Natasha carefully concealed the surprise on her face.  She'd read Tony's files, but she never thought that Tony was  _that_ good.  The accent and inflections were perfect.  His files only listed Italian, Natasha knew.  What else did Tony know how to speak? she wondered.   _"Sì, sembra che sei,"_ she replied eloquently without a moment's hesitation.   _Yes, it appears you are._ "It was in your files, actually," Natasha added.

"I know," Tony said, smirking.  "Was that all that was listed?"

Natasha cocked her head.  "Yes, but I'm guessing that you are fluent in more."

"What  _was_ that?" Steve blurted.

"Italian," Tony said.

"Friend Tony, what marvelous talents you possess!" Thor boomed, chuckling heartily.  "I am pleasantly surprised."

"I am also fluent in Dari, Filipino, Spanish, I know a little bit of French, some Korean, and I can speak Portuguese fluently also."  Tony shrugged, but he was grinning at his teammates' shocked faces (except for Natasha; even if a bomb exploded right next to her she'd look unsurprised) (and Thor, who just looked confused).

"I didn't even know that 'Dari' was a  _language,"_ Clint exclaimed.

"I learned while I was in Afghanistan," Tony said.

"You were in Afghanistan?" the archer blurted.  

"Yeah."  The billionaire didn't bother to elaborate.

"Could Howard speak that many languages?" Steve wondered.  "Is that who you learned all that from?"

Suddenly, Tony froze.  "No talking about my f--Howard," he said icily, eyes cold.  "I was actually enjoying myself for a second, you know."  He looked hard at Steve.  "And no, most of those languages I taught myself to understand.  I can't write, though."

"O-Oh," Steve said, a little cowered by Tony's suddenly icy demeanor.  No, he was Captain America, leader of the Avengers.  He could take the billionaire on.  "How come you don't like talking about your dad?" he asked, pushing at Tony's defense.  "It's his birthday today.  I think you should be respecting him."  His patriotic, respect-your-parents side was coming out now.  

"I don't," Tony replied bluntly.  "So I see no reason why he deserves any respect.  At all."

"He was such a kind man!" Steve burst out, a little angry now.  "How come you can't see it?"

"Because it's not  _there,"_ Tony retorted, eyes dark and smoldering with fire.  

"Guys, calm down," Bruce suddenly cut in, voice sharp.  "I can feel the Big Guy in there, and he's not happy."

"We don't want to wake the Hulk, Stark," Steve reprimanded, looking straight into the other man's eyes.  The planes of Tony's face were shadowed and dark, like a shaded-in pencil or charcoal drawing.

"Yeah, so calm down, Rogers," Tony snapped back.  Then he threw up his hands.  "Okay, you know what,  _Steven,_ you're ruining this night.  I came up here because I thought, 'oh, maybe I'll actually enjoy your company for once', but I guess that some things just never change."

 _"That's it,"_ Steve growled, stepping forward and grabbing Tony by the arm, fingers digging in so deep that Tony would probably have a circle of finger-shaped bruises on his bicep tomorrow.  

"Let go!" Tony hissed, wrenching his arm away.  Thor touched Steve on the shoulder.

"Friend Steven," the blonde god said softly, "leave the Man of Iron alone."

Steve shook his head, suddenly completely aware of what he had done.  "Sorry, I didn't--I don't know what came over me," he said, anger fading.  "I just don't get why you hate Howard so much, or at least, why you don't pay him any respect, even though today's his  _birthday."_

"Of course you don't get it," Tony said coldly, eyes unforgiving.  "You never get it, because you're Steve Rogers.  You grew up with the perfect life."

Steve's temper heated up as fast as it had cooled down.  "My dad died when I was a _baby_ and my mom struggled to support us both!"

"Fine, then.  A good life," Tony said, spreading his hands wide.

"What about you then?" Steve pushed.  "The rich, popular kid who never had to worry about anything.  You weren't picked on, I bet.  I was, for being sickly and small!  I never had any friends except for Bucky!"

"Do you know what?  Okay, fine.  Whatever.  I don't even care anymore.  Think what you want, Rogers.  I'm out," Tony said.  "Bye guys."  Within a minute, Tony was in the elevator and heading down to his workshop.  

"That was too far," Natasha noticed.  "Steve, you shouldn't have done that.  You can tell when Tony's hurt when he doesn't bother to fight back."

"I have been in plenty of battles, friend Steven," Thor said.  "Our warriors did not give up until they lost all hope.  Friend Tony has just given up, I am afraid."

Steve opened and closed his mouth, then opened it again.  "Howard was such a good man, though," he said softly, shaking his head.  "Tony's his son.  I just expected him to be more..."

"More like Howard, and to worship Howard like you do," Natasha cut in.  "That's pretty unfair to Tony, don't you think?"

"Friend Anthony is a good man, like you," Thor said.  "It pains me to see such good friends fight like this."

Steve had nothing to say that that wouldn't make the situation worse, so he silently started adjusting the pillows and picking Clint's noodles off the floor.

 

_-_

 

**Tony** **( IV )**

Tony's stomach was churning.  He didn't know why.  It just was.  And his arc reactor was really itchy, his whole entire chest was, in fact.  Scratching absentmindedly at his shirt, he slipped his welding goggles back on before taking them back off again.  He didn't want to work on his newest suit right now.  

Well, this was a first.  When had he ever not wanted to fix or build something like he was so good at doing?

Suddenly, sparks of searing flame shot out from the arc reactor, and Tony hissed in surprise and pain.   _"Fuck,"_ he whispered.  What the hell was happening to his chest?

It felt like all his veins were being slowly ripped out of his chest, centimeter by centimeter, and he dropped to his knees in the workshop.  "Sir?  Sir!" he could hear JARVIS saying faintly, and if an AI could sound panicky, then that's exactly what JARVIS sounded like.

"JARVIS," he gasped out, "Don't...tell...anybody about...this."  He didn't want the Avengers all worrying about him (besides Steve, of course; if the guy hadn't hated him before, he probably did now).  

"Sir..." was the last thing Tony heard before he drifted off into the darkness.  

 


End file.
